


It's Just a Bright White Flash and Then...

by MesmiraculouslyMirthful



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Drug Use, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Other, POV Second Person, gender neutral sole survivor - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-19
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-10-07 13:28:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10361493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MesmiraculouslyMirthful/pseuds/MesmiraculouslyMirthful
Summary: A series of loosely interconnected vignettes focused on the growing relationship between the sole survivor and John Handcock.





	

“Do you have a ride of choice? I’m normally a Mentats kind of ghoul myself, makes me feel all intellectual.” Hancock says.  
   
“Jet,” you say after a moment’s hesitation. The word is heavy with two hundred years that, to you, had only been an instant. You remember the first hit you took and how the seconds seemed to drag on into eternity. The vapor filled your lungs and then the world was moving at a pace that gave you time to think. “It makes me feel like I’m holding infinity in the palm of my hand.”  
   
It seems like after that he tends to slip you inhalers of jet more often than syringes of psycho or mentat pills. But neither of you acknowledge it.  
   
~*~

“No one like me should be this lucky. You, you’re the best thing I got.”  
   
In the distance the test round of heavy artillery fired by the castle explodes in a bright blast. He laughs, and you kiss him hard. The inside of his mouth tastes chalky and sweet, the remnants of Mentats clinging to his gums. You wonder if he can taste the bitter tang of Jet in your own mouth and your lips curl up in a small smile. He’s rough in the places where you are soft, skin and sinew and sweat, but his hands on your hips are gentle.

~*~

You’re always quick to tend to his injuries, even in the middle of a firefight. You’ve probably used more stimpacks on him than you have yourself.

You’re at your fiercest when he is by your side. As a team you cut down swaths of raiders and supermutants with ease. Making the Commonwealth a better place, one bullet at a time.

~*~

‘Fuck those assholes,’ you think to yourself. His hand is in yours and that is all that matters. Your feet beat steady time across the broken pavement. Gunfire echoes somewhere in the distance. 'I’ll show them fucking feral.’

It bothers you, how easily Hancock brushed off their comments. His nonchalant attitude in the face of all that hate really hit you hard. He has to deal with such ignorance all the time. Looking back, it’s no wonder he didn’t believe you were really interested in him.

The Brotherhood of Steel has lost any chance of you siding with them.

~*~  
Weapons loosely held, you watch incredulously as the raiders that were firing at you from the overpass above fall in slow motion to their deaths. They splatter against the pavement in front of you, one by one.

You look at Hancock and burst into peels of laughter. Soon he’s joining you in heavy chuckles. You both laugh until neither of you remembers what was so funny.

~*~

He’s smaller than he seems. He is charismatic, larger than life. So when he stands beside you and you have to lean down to kiss him, it takes you by suprise.

~*~

Hancock cries that night, heavy wet sobs escaping his throat, after you discover what happened to his brother. His face is pressed tight to your shoulder, but you can feel how his entire body tenses and shakes.

“How the fuck didn’t I know? This whole time?” He keeps mumbling. 

“It’s okay Hancock, it’s okay. We’ll find them, and make them pay.” You  rub his back in slow circles and hold him. Inside you, fire burns.

~*~

Oh, power armor is a slight to behold yes, but you’ve never seen a pack of raiders freak out worse than when you and Hancock rushed that one group naked and armed with knives.

~*~

You make a home of Covenant out of sheer spite. Hancock keeps coolers filled with chems on the porch, and you turn the general store into a bar.

~*~

You grind up against him, his weight a comforting press against your hips. His black eyes stare down at you as he leans over you.

“I’m a sixty minute man,” he croons against the shell of your ear, and you swat him playfully.

~*~

“Good morning, sunshine."

~*~

You never thought you could love someone like this. Sure you loved your spouse, but not like you love him. Hancock makes you feel like someone set an atom bomb off in your chest.

You tell him as much, slipping the ring that matches your own on his finger. It sits there perfectly. 

~*~

You’re finally running towards something other than heartbreak.


End file.
